


Something Like That

by duvent



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duvent/pseuds/duvent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>originally <a href="http://entresoul.tumblr.com/post/121341400438/happy-midotaka-week-day-6-future">posted</a> for midotaka week</p>
    </blockquote>





	Something Like That

**Author's Note:**

> originally [posted](http://entresoul.tumblr.com/post/121341400438/happy-midotaka-week-day-6-future) for midotaka week

Midorima presses the backspace bar on his phone, then redials the number that had been on the screen. The person he’s reluctant to call should be home by now.

“Hello?” An unnecessarily loud voice answers, the sound of an evening TV program accompanying him.

“Hello Kagami, it’s Midorima.”

“What’s up?”

“Sorry to disturb you. I have a favour to ask and I was just wondering if you had some time this week to meet.” Midorima closes his eyes, crossing his fingers that the guy is dense enough to not ask too many questions at the moment.

“Why don’t you two just come over for dinner on Friday?”

“Takao won’t be coming,” Midorima says swiftly.

“Why? What happened?? Did you guys break up???”

Before he can respond, on Kagami’s line he hears a rustle of someone approaching and a light slap.

“Bakagami,” says a soft voice. “Takao probably can’t make it.”

“Oi Kuroko,” Kagami replies. “Don’t eavesdrop.”

Midorima holds his cell away from his ear while Kagami and Kuroko bicker over control over the phone, each claiming they need to talk to him more. As they start a squabble about who’s been using more minutes this month, Midorima clears his throat.

“Friday is good with me.”

“Okay, we’ll see you then,” Kuroko says, and Midorima catches a lilt in his voice, an excitement he hopes he can return.

“Later,” says Kagami.

* * *

Kuroko clears the table, bringing the dishes to the kitchen.

“Well,” says Kagami, one hand perched under his chin. He has to admit he’s curious. He hopes he’s prepared for whatever request someone as careful and cautious as Midorima has brought him.

“Well,” echoes Midorima. “You know the party you threw a couple of years ago to celebrate Momoi and Aida’s anniversary since they started going out?”

“Yeah…”

“Well…” Midorima searches for the words. “I want to do something similar for –”

_bzzZZZZzzzrhcklhZZzhkcKK_

Kagami looks over his shoulder. “Kuroko, what are you doing?”

“I’m making a vanilla milkshake,” the figure replies, holding a bucket of ice cream to his stomach.

“Now?” Kagami notes Kuroko’s widening eyes, his boyfriend’s preferred weapon of cuteness.

“Yes.”

Kagami sighs and mouths a ‘sorry’ to Midorima.

Midorima starts again. “It’s for –”

_bzzZZZZzzzrhcklhZZzhkcKKnnnknkhRRRRRRRRRRRR_

“Kuroko, that blender is really loud!”

“I’m sorry Kagami-kun, Midorima-kun. It won’t take much longer.” Kuroko’s apology is outshined by his childlike anticipation.

Midorima takes a deep breath. “As I was say -”

_bzzZZZZzzzrhcklhZZzhkcKKnnnk –_

“-ing iT’S TAKAO’S BIRTHDAY SOON AND I WANT TO SHOW HOW MUCH I CARE FOR HIM.”

_– RRRrrrrrrrrr._

“All done,” says Kuroko.

Kagami looks over at Midorima, who is now giving his full attention to the floor.

Kuroko pours his milkshake from the blender into a cup and takes a sip.

Sweet, he thinks.

* * *

Takao shifts his work bag from one shoulder to the other, walking up the stairs to their apartment. There’s a skip in his step as he thinks about how pleased he is that he’s finally gotten the hang of things at work, about how the days are getting shorter, about what they should have for dinner.

He opens the door and is immediately hit with confetti.

“SURPRISE!”

Takao doesn’t know what to say. There are balloons and people he hasn’t seen in years, his former teammates, former opponents, their many faces beaming at him. But the one word, the most important one: “Shin-ch –”

“Shintarou.”

Midorima takes Takao’s hand and squeezes it, his fingers shaking just a bit. “Happy birthday,” he musters.

“What, you’re not going to sing it to me?”

“Fine. Only because I like you.”

So Midorima leads everyone in a round of happy birthday and the party is off to a boisterous start, with lots of laughter and applause.  

When the song ends, Takao gives Midorima a hug.

“So so so much.”

“What?” Midorima bends his head down, straining to hear him over the cheers of their friends.

“Nothing,” Takao says, and pokes Midorima’s cheeks.

How much I love you, silly.

* * *

Midorima stretches his arms behind his back and breathes out slowly. It’s going well, he thinks. And Murasakibara hasn’t even eaten all the cake yet. 

Before he can get a drink of water, Takao grabs his hand and pulls him into the hallway. “Thank you,” he whispers, and steps up to Midorima and kisses him. He then pulls away fast and heads back into the living room, a mischievous air of contentment trailing behind him.

Midorima lifts one hand to his forehead, takes another deep breath to calm his pulse, and follows his boyfriend.

“Hey - I was going to do that,” he says, ruffling Takao’s hair.

Takao turns back, a bright laugh already lighting up his face, and asks “Ohhh, did I steal your move?”

Sitting on the couch, Kise overhears this and smiles to himself, a chuckle escaping him.  

“What’s so funny?” asks the person beside him.

“Nothing really, Aominecchi,” Kise says, and squeezes his partner’s hand. “I’m glad we came.”

Aomine thinks back to when they received the invitation to this party, to when Midorima abruptly hung up on them because he thought he heard Takao come home from work. Dorks, he concludes.

“I’m happy for them too.”

* * *

Standing around a makeshift bar, Nijimura is making small talk with Haizaki, distant from the others, and uncomfortable with the sudden reunion. Bit by bit however, Haizaki becomes less self-conscious and even laughs every now and then.

Leaning against a wall with a beer and watching the two, Akashi bites his lip. He takes in how they joke around freely, how they can deliver friendly jabs at each other at ease. As he tracks the progress of some stupid game of who can stack the most empty cans without it tipping over, a large figure, a tower in his own right, blocks Akashi’s vision.

“Ehhhhhhhh Aka-chin, you look kind of cool,” says Murasakibara. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Akashi diverts his gaze. “No one. I always look this good.”

“Haaahhhh,” replies Murasakibara, scrutinizing the guy who normally never shies away from one’s eyes. “That’s kind of true. But Muro-chin says people try to look especially cool in front of the ones they like. Or something like that.”

Nijimura is excusing himself now and walking in their direction.

“Need more cake,” blurts Murasakibara. And off he skips like only a giant baby can over to the table, covered with food and gifts tied with colourful ribbons.

* * *

“It’s warm in here,” says Nijimura.

“Yes,” says Akashi. He can’t comprehend why people start conversations with the temperature or the weather. “Nijimura, do you want to –”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t finish.”

Nijimura shrugs. “It’s because it’s you that’s asking. What were you going to say?”

“Nevermind.” Akashi turns away.

“Don’t -” Nijimura lowers his voice “ - run away.”

‘Don’t tell me what to do’ is what Akashi wants to say. Instead, he lets Nijimura drape an arm around him and drag him onto Midorima’s balcony. As they step into the cool night, Akashi takes a breath of fresh air and turns his face upwards.

“What are you looking at?” asks Nijimura. “There aren’t many stars out tonight. Admiring the fine buildings?” He leans over the railing and a chill runs through Akashi, and he’s not sure if it’s from the slight breeze that’s playing with his shirt.

“It’s still soothing to look at the sky,” Akashi insists, cursing inwardly. How is he supposed to explain how looking up at this air, this night - is his attempt to quash the disconcerting feeling of seeing his middle school crush again? He senses a rush not of nostalgia but of unspoken feelings tinged with the awkwardness and distance of bygone years between them.

Nijimura runs one hand through Akashi’s hair, watching how the guy tries not to flinch.

“I like listening to the chatter on the street float to us from below,” Nijimura says. “It’s like part of their thoughts drift this way. Or something like that.”

Akashi half-smiles. He turns his eyes to Nijimura’s, which are glowing with warmth.

“Or something like that, huh.”

* * *

Takao walks over to a person seated at the table, absorbed in texting.

“Miyaji, if you have to go, it’s okay. It’s getting late after all.”

His high school senpai jumps a little in his seat, displaying a guilty expression and widened eyes. He waves his hands. “No everything’s good, I want to stay! It’s just Hayama was worried you wouldn’t like the gift we got you and I said it was fine but now he’s...”

“...Don’t worry,” Takao says. He looks around the room, his eyes resting on a small commotion occurring in front of the TV. Kuroko has just finished singing and is trying to puppy dog eye Midorima into going next, while Kagami, Kise and Aomine bombard the host with song requests.

“I couldn’t be happier.”

* * *

Some years later, the party is merely a memory, something used to recall the ‘good times.’ On this day of grey skies and gloomy clouds, Midorima is almost home, walking with his head down, wondering when the last time was that he didn’t feel tired. He hmphs to nothing in particular before shaking off the thought as he unlocks their front door.

“I’m home,” he says, taking off his shoes.  

A head peeks out from their study. “Welcome home,” says Takao. Midorima hangs his coat, loosens his tie and flops on their couch, burying his face in a pillow.

“Bad day?” Takao asks, having followed Midorima to the living room.

Another nod.

Takao smiles a little sadly. Bad days don’t happen a lot, but when they do, they hit you like how the cold wind slaps your face, sharp and uncaring.

* * *

Even taking a bath doesn’t do much to de-stress Midorima. I can’t wait for this day to be over, he thinks, the thought automatic and familiar. The work project he received today just mercilessly adds on to his neverending list of things to do.

As he muses over his schedule for the rest of the week, a rubber duck floats toward him. Midorima watches as it bobs in the water, impervious to the complaints that fill his head. And then he finds himself laughing, covering his mouth even though no one can hear him.

“I’m too old for this,” he tells the rubber duck.

Once he has changed, Midorima calls to Takao from the kitchen and asks if he wants something warm to drink before they go to sleep, tea or maybe hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. He waits for a reply but doesn’t hear anything, so he knocks on the door of their study.

“Takao? You working?”

It seems he was indeed working -- there are papers scattered over their desk, along with some crumbs from a finished bag of chips. But when Midorima pops into their room, he finds Takao fast asleep in their bed, head resting on a small pillow embroidered with little frogs. He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed.

Of course Takao’s exhausted too. Busy bees, the both of us.

Midorima leans over and kisses Takao on the forehead. “Please continue to take care of me,” he murmurs.

And now he feels sleepy, drawn in by the peace of a quiet night. He pulls a blanket over the two of them, and turns to face Takao. Beautiful, he thinks, taking Takao’s hand into his own. And so warm.

Takao makes a noise and pulls the blanket up to cover part of his face, so Midorima moves closer and wraps his other arm around him.  

When Midorima closes his eyes, the stress of his work doesn’t leave him. It’s not like the mundane rhythm of their lives and the brutal light of the early mornings are going anywhere. But for now, the two can sleep holding each other, hands clasped tightly, just as tightly as the tape once wrapped around Midorima’s fingers.

Or something like that.


End file.
